


Course

by gonfalonier



Category: American Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Cunnilingus, F/M, Food Porn, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:31:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2504630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonfalonier/pseuds/gonfalonier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James is a humanities professor who develops an intense fixation on graduate student Lizzie.  She's unsettled, but she's willing to deal with his weirdness as long as he keeps giving her what he's giving her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Course

**Author's Note:**

> i took this down a little while ago because i thought i was going to expand it and turn it into something but then i got tired so here it is again
> 
> please let me know if there are any other tags i need to add, thank you

The table stretches out between them, almost comically long. When Elizabeth speaks, she's sure she can hear an echo. The room is fine, though, in the sense that it's filled with beautiful things, and the table suits the atmosphere. As long as it is, as much as it forces a mile between Elizabeth and her host, it doesn't kill the intimacy of the meal. So far, James has served her three fine, small dishes on three fine, small plates: a butternut-apple compote with red onion marmalade; trout with blueberries and milk-braised leeks; medallions of duck breast draped in warm, tender asparagus, peppered with pickled mustard seed. "You know, Lizzie," he says as he watches her take a bite of the third course, "I quite enjoy watching you eat _meat_." He holds her gaze on the final word. Her gut twists up tight and she sets down her fork.

"Have I upset you?" James doesn't pause. Spears a forkful of duck and asparagus and then chews as he waits for her response. He isn't looking at her now.

Lizzie stares down at her nearly empty plate. They've carried on polite and interesting conversation all evening, about her current research project, about his recent journal submission, about the rash of vandalism on campus, about the food they're eating tonight. But every time the conversation has lulled, she's found her mind drifting, her eyes resting on his mouth, the way his tongue draws in each bite, the way his lips close around the tines of the silver and he closes his eyes to savor the taste. That soft suck as he slips the fork from his mouth. She rather likes watching him eat meat, herself.

She answers his question curtly: "Not at all." And then she returns to her meal. It's delicious, after all, and it would be rude not to clean her plate. She takes a sip of her water -- only water tonight, no wine, "to keep the palate fresh" -- to try to cool herself down. Not for the first time tonight, she tightens and releases her thighs. She's wet. She's so wet. Of course he's upset her. She's been here for the better part of an hour now, and he hasn't touched her except to kiss her cheek and take her coat at the door, but he's managed to make enough innuendo, give her enough loaded gazes to make her feel like she's about to soak right through and stain this richly upholstered chair.

She finishes her duck and sets her utensils down. He finishes soon after. A pause to let the course settle, and then James stands and collects his own plate before coming around for hers. He leans over her shoulder from behind, his lips close to her ear as he reaches out to take her plate. In the moment between his intake of breath and the first word he speaks, Elizabeth braces herself for something filthy, a promise, a threat. Instead what she gets is, "The next course is a blood orange sorbet accompanied by a pista-"

" _Fuck_ your sorbet," she whispers before he can finish.

His hand pauses with her plate an inch off the table. "I beg your pardon?"

"Fuck your sorbet," she repeats calmly. 

She turns to face him. Their mouths are close enough that she could lick his lips. He smiles and shakes his head. "The mouth on you, Elizabeth." And then he takes her plate away, leaving her to marinate in her thoughts. He returns empty-handed and leans against the table, just next to where she's sitting. Her cheeks burn when he tucks two fingers under her chin and turns her face up to his. He isn't smiling. He isn't not. He says, "I've put a lot of effort into the meal you're eating tonight, in planning and execution, not to mention expense. I thought you were enjoying yourself."

Her face is flushed, but she keeps her expression fixed, expectant. He knows full well how much she's been enjoying herself.

"Mmm." He pushes his fingers up and turns her face to one side, then the other, getting a good look at the blush that's nearly crept down to the collar of her blouse. He releases her before making her an offer. "Lizzie, if I take care of you now, will you be an angel and finish your supper?"

Elizabeth blinks once as she thinks it over, and then she nods. He nods in return and gives her a smile. "Then please join me on my end of the table."

When she gets up, her legs are shaky. Her cunt feels heavy and achy, full, ready for relief. When they reach the other side of the table, James picks up his glass and swallows the rest of his water, then places the glass on the floor next to the leg of the table like it belongs there. He thumps the tabletop with his fingers, right on the edge. "Right here, please," he says, and she slides up and makes herself comfortable. Her feet barely touch the floor. She swings her legs like a little girl. She smiles, and he smiles with her, and when he sits down and moves his chair to the table, she plants her feet on the arms and bends at the waist to lean in and kiss his lips.

They hold like that for a moment, her hand on the back of his neck as they kiss, sweet and almost chaste. Their lips never part, their tongues never touch. She prefers it that way. When they pull away, he guides Elizabeth onto her back where she props herself up on her elbows. She understands the table now. She can't be the first person he's laid out like this.

James pushes her skirt up to her ribs and pries her legs back and apart until her has her how he wants her. She doesn't resist, but she doesn't help. She closes her eyes -- she always closes her eyes right before it starts. She swallows hard when she hears his chair creak and feels a warm exhale on her flesh. His lips drop against the inside of her knee and she hisses like he's burned her. She holds onto that breath, pushing it out slowly as he kisses and softly bites down her thigh, across her belly, down the center of her mound until he can ghost his damp lips over her clit. Her fingertips squeak against the table as she grips at the wood, and he extends both of his hands to take hers. She clutches them and exhales at last.

"I need you to breathe for me, Elizabeth," he admonishes. His voice reverberates against her cunt, and she squeezes her eyes shut tighter when she feels a trickle of wetness spill out over her perineum. Her heart skips and aches when he chuckles at the sight of it. She takes a breath and lets it fill up every nerve with fresh energy. When she exhales, she sighs the word "please". He laughs again, softly, and then takes what he wants.

Her clit is already stiff, already throbbing and fluttering in search of contact, but he still brushes it encouragingly with the tip of his nose, guiding the hood back just enough to expose the tip for a kiss. He murmurs, "Good girl," and Elizabeth suspects he's not even talking to her. He draws his tongue up the length of her brimming slit, gathering up the fluid there and swallowing it with a satisfied smack. He does it a few more times, parting his lips to encompass her entire cunt, his lower teeth resting just at the bottom edge of her labia minora. They nettle at her, they make her hiss and flinch, but his upper lip soothes her by slicking over the hood of her clit, lightly jerking her off. His tongue fills in the space between, tasting and exploring her, lingering on spots that make her tremble. Finally, he gives her whole slit a good, soft suck and then pulls away. He squeezes her hands gently and then releases them so he can drape her legs over his shoulders and trail his fingers rhythmically up and down the tops of her thighs.

"How are you holding up, dear," he asks before turning his head to give a soft bite to her thigh. Elizabeth feels dazed already. She doesn't know how to answer, so she just sighs. He says, "Very good," and then kisses her mound. He holds her thighs close to him, never letting her spread too wide. He nuzzles his nose into the very top of her slit, right at the crevice, and breathes in as he licks up to tease his tongue against the underside of her clit. His breath tickles her as he exhales, and she giggles, very much to her own embarrassment. "God," she mutters, raising her arm up to drape it over her eyes. "That's so nice." Her own voice sounds weak in her ears, but she doesn't care. She can't care. Every pass of his tongue, every sucking kiss to her clit takes away another worry.

He points his tongue and draws it over one inner lip and then the other, and then again and again and again until she's drumming her feet against his back. He abandons her clit just for a moment to explore a bit lower, closing his teeth around her swollen outer lips one at a time and lightly sucking, letting them pop from his mouth before suckling them in again. He laves over her perineum and then closes his lips to give it a few soft sucks, too, before moving up and pressing a kiss to her hole. He smiles there, his lips moving softly against her flesh as he does. 

He doesn't concentrate anywhere. Instead, he treats her cunt like a feast, every flavor on offer, every texture, every pleasure for the mouth. He bites at her mound, his lower teeth pressing against the shaft of her clit, and that's when she comes the first time. He groans against her when he feels it, and he dips his head to drink it up, turning to wipe the wetness on his chin off on her thigh. As she recovers, he rests his cheek against her vulva. He doesn't say a word. After that first brick falls, the rest of her deconstruction feels so much easier.

He _eats_ her. He mouths at her slit and murmurs against her how beautiful and ripe she is, how exquisitely she's made. He pets her cunt with his lips, breathing out hot on her flesh. "Here," he says before suckling on the thin, sensitive edge of her right inner lip. "This is a very interesting spot. Tender, sensitive, but." He closes his teeth around it. She flinches and yelps. "So resilient." He tries again, just barely holding the flesh between his teeth and flickering his tongue against it. Elizabeth melts against the table, flushed, sticky with sweat. Her cunt convulses without cease, deep waves clenching from deep inside out to her quivering hole.

James moves his hands from her thighs to her hips. "I need you to be steady now for me, Lizzie," he warns her, pressing down in a toothless attempt to keep her in place. "Please try not to ruin my table." And then he lowers his head and brings just the tip of her clit into his mouth. She can feel it twitching, ready to be stimulated, but there's a still, calm moment when he just lets it rest there between his lips, just before he closes and sucks. He presses the flat of his tongue to the head and then lets her clit to the rest of the work. The room begins to blur and she closes her eyes to keep from getting dizzy. She remembers his comment from one of their very first encounters of this kind, when she was resting bonelessly on the couch in his office after getting sucked off. "You respond well to suction," he'd commented then, still kissing her overheated flesh. "Not everyone does, some prefer to be licked, others slapped or pinched. But you're dying to be sucked, aren't you. I think you and I are going to get along famously." He was right then. He still is. Her clit flutters against his tongue, and she whines through her teeth as one more climax bursts through her, leaving her chest pink and heaving as she rides it out.

He keeps his mouth buried against her, their breathing and swallowing the only sounds in the room. When he does sit back, he moves her feet to his lap. He cradles her calves and lets his head fall back against the chair. "Elizabeth."

"Mmm." She can feel him better than she can hear him. She has a feeling he just said her name. There's a quality his voice gets when he's just finished having her. His lips are swollen and slightly numb. His voice is thick with her. She feels proud.

"I'm going to go to the kitchen for a moment." He lifts his head and leans in to kiss her knee. "I'm not abandoning you. Please stay just where you are."

Like she has a choice. She stays on her back, her eyes closed, letting her body recalibrate to a place where she isn't being sucked on. It's always a disappointing adjustment. Vaguely, she hears water running, then clinking, the tap of something on glass. She gasps when James touches her again, but she lets him lift her and pull her into his lap. "Don't drop me," she says. She's serious. He laughs. So she says, "Don't laugh," and he stops laughing and tugs her tighter.

She looks at the table to see a pretty dish of red sorbet next to a green piece of cake. James kisses her jawline and then tells her, "As I was saying, before the evening got away from us. This is a simple blood orange sorbet, served with a pistachio sponge cake. I think you'll like it." One arm is wrapped snug around her waist. With his free hand he scoops up a spoonful of the sorbet. "Now open up."


End file.
